EXPERIMENT WITH JOY

 Zen-cuisine, the art of mindful cooking, freely offers something most of us would like to love doing—eating good food made with care and positive energy from fine, fresh produce. We all want to delight in preparing food. We need to share the gifts of our labour with others, making our kitchen a source of joy for ourselves and those we love.  And we want mealtimes to be happy occasions, full of good food and laughter. We’d love to enjoy our time in the kitchen, so let’s make a wish to transform our kitchen time into an experiment with joy this spring. 

The art of zen-cuisine invites us, just for fun, to look at cooking as a game we are playing with ourselves, as an exploration into the world of magic/chemistry/artistry/strategy…we issue ourselves an invitation to creativity, a chance to practice a new way of playing with the endless possibilities of life. So, one of the first things we do in zen-cuisine is to stop worrying about whether we are going to have a ‘good’ experience in the kitchen, or not. Actually, there is no such concept as a good or bad experience when making meals even if everything turns out totally opposite of how we imagined. All that really happens in the kitchen is our ever-increasing awareness of cooking, and our unfolding relationship with this awareness.  To begin with, we simply focus our attention on cooking, and relax with positive thoughts, “Suppose I make the most amazing, imaginative green, gold, and red pepper salad? Suppose everything in the fridge is longing to be minestrone soup? Suppose this hour in the kitchen is some of the best time of my day?” And the game of zen-cuisine begins…

Here is how I practice the art of mindful cooking at lunch today. Walking into the kitchen, I stop at the sink to wash my hands.  A practical step, but also is a small ritual. I’m getting ready enter the ‘sacred’ realm of zen-cuisine. Next, I set my intention. I’m making soup for lunch. I wish to prepare it with care and mindful attention. Before I begin, I ask myself, “What would happen if, when I make this soup, I breathe as if the universe were breathing through me? What would the universe put into the pot?” And so I begin to pull together a recipe with a playful sense of creativity. I feel spacious, and filled with positive energy of vast possibilities. With a great deal of fun, I’m developing a tasty and nourishing soup: a delicious creamy butternut squash, corn and silken tofu chowder.  I chopped green pepper, slice long thin green onions, cube the soft soya block, add a swirl of cayenne powder and grated nutmeg.  My soup-making takes me through passages of the heart that open in gratitude to so many people and circumstances that bring me and these ingredients together in this time and place. We eat. The meal is wonderful.

There are lots of phrases we could play with while cooking. After deciding on an intention, make a short sentence about it, and repeat it every so often, like a polysyllabic mantra. The words can be said silently, out loud, and even sung or chanted. Pay attention to how it feels when the phrase arises, and note the results.  But above all, relax and enjoy the experience. Have fun in the kitchen.  Play with one of the following ideas, or create a new intention.  Initially, we might wonder, “What does it feel like to watch myself in the kitchen, as if I were a witness to my own cooking?”  Or play a riff with a classical form of inquiry, asking, “What is this” each time we touch an ingredient or pick up a kitchen tool.  Let thoughts ramble down unfamiliar pathways, and really investigate the vegetable in the palm of the hand. We can notice if there’s a shift in our relationship to the things we use or prepare. 

Let’s really play, and go for an amusing twist on self-inquiry, asking “Who am I” as the sauce is stirred, or the Anjou pear peeled.  Investigate what happens to the sense of identity if we look at ourselves as being a zen-chef.  We might decide we would like to approach our recipe from a more ‘spiritual’ perspective, making ‘real’ soul food, or an authentic ‘friendship’ cake.  We might think, “I’d really like to share my happiness with my family” and spend a few moments meditating on the gift of grace flowing through the body and into the food.  Or we might decide, “Today I am just going to have some fun in the kitchen,” and see where grace and good humour takes us. 

We can be playful in how we approach cooking, and playful in how we cook. All we are asked to do is open ourselves to the present moment, and respond with love and care to whatever experience is unfolding in and around us. Above all, remember to ponder the old zen-cuisine koan, ”how does it feel to be the happiness we want our food to bring to other people?”